Ten
by a.lakewood
Summary: Ten rules John gave to Dean.


Title: Ten  
Author: alakewood  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Ten rules John gave to Dean.  
Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.

**XOXOX**

_In the weeks leading up to Dean's very first hunt, John tried to prepare him best he could. This started with three rules._

"Rule number one," John said, starting to tick the numbers off on his fingers, "never tell anyone what we really do."

The look on Dean's face told his father that this was a given. "I know. I don't think anyone would believe me, anyway."

"Regardless, Dean. Two," he pushed an old, leather-bound book across the scratched tabletop. "Always do your research. Learn your prey inside and out. The smallest piece of information could come in handy."

Dean wrinkled his nose as he leafed through the musty pages. "Okay."

"Three. Always have a backup plan. You can never be sure what situation you'll find yourself in, what you're going to come up against. What's that old saying? _The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry._ You gotta think fast, know your exits."

**XOX**

_Rules four and five came in a quick succession._

John had caught wind of a yenaldooshi in Arizona. As they made their way down into Glen Canyon just outside of Page, Sam was under the impression that they were going camping. Dean, however, knew the real reason was another hunt.

With Sammy asleep in the backseat, Dean had used a flashlight to do his research and learn about this yenaldooshi. He learned that it was a Navajo skinwalker that got its power by killing one of its relatives. Dean thought about his dad and brother, didn't understand how or why somebody could kill their own family to get magical powers.

As soon as John was sure Sam was asleep again, tucked into a motel bed, he and Dean headed out into the canyon.

It was so dark, the moon just a sliver of light in the sky, and Dean would've sworn he felt eyes watching him. He held his sawed-off high, scanning the brush and boulders, John only a few feet ahead of him. His only real fear that night was that they'd come across the yenaldooshi in its animal shape. And that was how things went down.

Dean sensed something tracking them, "Dad," he whispered loudly, hearing the snapping of dry twigs behind him. "_Dad_."

As John turned, they both heard a perfect imitation of Dean's voice just off to their left. "Da-ad," it said, drawing the word out into two syllables, sounding sing-songy. Then it was on their right.

"Dean, behind me. Now." John leveled his shotgun, searching for the monster.

Weeds swayed in front of them, and John fired a shot at what was apparently nothing because the yenaldooshi, in his coyote form, leapt from the pile of boulders behind Dean, knocking him down. It lunged at John, who fired again and missed. The thing bit John's forearm, tried to drag him towards the river.

It took Dean only a moment to regain his focus and shoot the damn shapeshifter. It howled and turned on Dean, baring his teeth and snarling. He shot it again, and it yelped, slinking away from them.

"You okay, Dad?" Dean asked, immediately at his father's side.

Rule four was: "Always finish what you start. Kill it. Make sure it's dead."

He left John near the boulders to pursue the now slow-moving, dark shadow. Pulling a couple more shells from his jacket pocket, he reloaded his gun and kept stalking his prey. He fired at the shadow and it stopped, growling. Dean edged closer, close enough to see its non-luminescent eyes. Shot it again, and it collapsed to the dust. "How do I make sure it's dead?" he called out, keeping his eyes trained on the dying coyote.

John came up behind him. "We'll salt and burn it."

The yenaldooshi slowly reverted back into its human form, and John let Dean do the honors of salting and burning the body. It was his son's first real kill, and it had made him proud.

As they watched it burn, Dean learned the fifth rule. Field medicine.

John told Dean how to minimize bleeding by keeping pressure on the bite wound on his forearm. When they got back to the car, John showed him how to clean, stitch, and bind it. "Knowing how to fix yourself up is just as important as knowing how to kill any spirit or monster."

**XOX**

_Dean's graduation from high school brought about rule six._

They'd been as close to settled as Dean could ever remember. Five months in Kirksville, Missouri. He was actually passing his classes, and graduation was only a couple of days away.

It was a Friday night. John had been acting slightly strange all day, insisting on taking the boys out to dinner. He'd been grinning throughout the meal, left the waitress a more-than-necessary tip, and led his sons back outside.

Dean could remember the next moments clear as day.

He and Sam had headed towards the Impala, but John was still near the entrance to the restaurant. "Hey," he'd called.

Dean turned, confused, eyebrows high.

John closed the distance between them, enveloped him in a hug, the likes of which Dean couldn't ever recall being on the receiving end of. John wasn't much one for physical displays of emotion. But he'd clapped Dean on the back and said, "I'm proud of you, son." Then he'd pushed the keys to the Impala into Dean's hand. "You take care of her."

Dean looked at Sammy, their eyes wide with disbelief. Dean shook his head, tried to hand the keys back over. "Dad- I can't. I-"

"She's _yours_, now, Dean." John smiled that rare smile. "Take care of her," he repeated.

That was rule six.

**XOX**

_Number seven was put in place in what Dean could remember being the tensest time the Winchesters had experienced. With the exception of, well, when Mary died._

Sam had just graduated from high school, top three of his class. His graduation party consisted of himself, Dean, and their father. Halfway through dinner, he'd blurted, "I got into Stanford."

"That's nice," John had said in an offhand manner.

"I got in to _Stanford_," Sam had repeated, more slowly. "A full ride."

Dean didn't know what to say. Just sat there and watched.

"So? You're not going. You can't just leave your family. We stay together," John had said.

At the time, Dean had though that, maybe, Sam had overreacted. The way he pushed himself away from the dinner table with so much force he almost knocked his chair over. Sam stood, looming like a giant, over his father and brother. "No. I'm going to school. I'm going. I need this."

"You're needed more here."

Sam had looked at Dean, then, helpless. And Dean had just shrugged in reply.

Sam's face twisted in the way it did just before he was about to cry. He scoffed and stormed out of the small apartment's even smaller kitchenette.

Dean knew that something had changed. Granted, not many words had been exchanged, but he knew his father's feelings on Sam ever leaving. For the most part, he felt the same way. It was just the three of them. They had to stay together.

He knew that if Sam were to leave, John wouldn't want him to come back. At least, not for a while.

Rule number seven: "Never let anything happen to your brother."

Dean learned that that one was really hard when Sam lived in California, and he and John were constantly moving about the rest of the United States.

Even later, after he and Sam were reunited as the Brothers Winchester, it proved even more difficult. But he tried. He'd made a silent promise to his father.

**XOX**

_The eighth rule came out of nowhere. At least, until John went missing, it had seemed to be strange._

John had said it to him randomly. They were dealing with poltergeists in Utah. John told him, "Always stay in touch with Bobby. And any other hunters you might come across, for that matter."

It was only a few weeks later that John had disappeared.

**XOX**

_Nine and ten were almost as important as seven. These were uttered minutes before John gave the ultimate sacrifice._

Sam was gone to get coffee. John clutched Dean close, trembling as he held his eldest son. "You promise me that you'll kill that bastard." He paused. "Promise me, Dean."

"Yes, sir," he'd whispered weakly.

"And when all this is over, you forget it and live _your_ life. Leave this behind and just _live_. You and Sammy."

He nodded. "I promise, sir."

Then John had told him of the prophecy concerning Sam.

**XOX**

_In the end, rule number seven was the only one that had ever really mattered. And, in the end, it was the only one Dean couldn't seem to follow. The one promise he couldn't keep. No matter how hard he tried, Sam always got hurt. And now, he wouldn't be able to hold up to his end of the bargain._

The year became months, months became weeks. Time slowly trickled by, grains of sand through an hourglass.

In the end, there was one rule he could pass on to his brother, the only rule there ever should have been: "Leave this behind and just _live_," he'd told Sam. "That's all you can do. Just live."


End file.
